


Of Love and Monsters

by Kadira



Category: Those Who Hunt the Night - Barbara Hambly
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-07
Updated: 2008-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-16 20:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kadira/pseuds/Kadira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just how far will James go to protect what he loves? And how will he deal with the consequences?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Love and Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> set some time after 'Traveling with the Dead', spoilers for both books, implied James/Ysidro

**I.**

Dying isn't nearly as painful as the _before_ , the brief moment when the knife was pushed into his stomach and was twisted around, Asher realizes. It is an interesting thought. He should keep it in mind so that he can tell Lydia about it later. Maybe she can use it in one of her--

Lydia!

His eyes snap open, but his wife isn't there. Of course not. Wysocki had taken her the moment Asher had gone down. Wysocki and his henchman, because... Asher knows the reason, but the sharp pain in his stomach makes it difficult to remember Wysocki's words. Retaliation, most likely. The past, _his_ past, doesn't rest just because Asher has turned his back on the game. Some of his enemies are still alive and out there, each of them having more than enough reason for such actions. But this situation, to get Lydia involved, is something Asher has always feared, his worst nightmare coming true.

He doesn't wince when he feels and sees the pale hand with the spider-like fingers on his shoulder. Asher can't say that he is surprised that Ysidro is suddenly there, even if he hasn't seen him since their return from Constantinople.

With great effort, Asher manages to sit up. For a moment, he looks at the blood on his coat and on the ground. It is not the first time that he has been in a serious condition, but he _knows_ that this is more than merely serious. He knows that he is dying and he can't say that it is a pleasant feeling.

"Ysidro. Why are you here?" he manages to say, voice not quite as steady as it should be. Ysidro's face comes in and out of focus, even as Asher tries to concentrate on it.

"This is my town as much as it is yours, James. I simply wished to enjoy the night and happened to cross your path." Ysidro looks almost human, a certain sign that he has recently fed. The heat he radiates belies the innocent words even further, but Asher can't feel any of the revulsion he has become so familiar with over the years. Maybe it is indeed just a matter of being confronted with a set of circumstances often enough until one experiences a certain indifference, no matter how gruesome the circumstances might be.

If Asher had felt more like himself, if there wasn't all the blood and all his worry for Lydia, he might have laughed. He probably still should, because laughing into the face of death is an unbecoming hobby of his, but the pain is overwhelming, so Asher only smiles. Or maybe he just grimaces. "I don't believe you," he says.

Ysidro's eyes are as expressionless as Asher remembers them. "That is your choice. But these do not appear to be your regular surroundings either. In fact, it seems very unhealthy for mortals to spend time here."

"Obviously," Asher agrees, swallowing as he remembers the attack, how they had kicked and hit him until he had been rendered immobile by the knife in his stomach and couldn't fight back anymore, couldn't go after Lydia as Wysocki had dragged her away.

Lydia's scream as he went down still echoes in Asher's head, just as much as the curse from one of Wysocki's men as Lydia's flailing leg had hit him where it hurts most, before they had vanished with her into the early night, leaving Asher behind (not without twisting the knife a few more times around, to make the situation even more unpleasant).

Asher sets his lips into a thin line and attempts to stand. He doesn't get far, but just when he's about to fall back again, there's one of those thin, yet very strong hands on him, supporting him. "You should not do this, James. You need a doctor."

"And that would still do much good?" Asher is breathing heavily as he finally stands, supported by the wall and Ysidro, the pain making him feeling lightheaded. He shakes his head, a motion that brings a wave of nausea over him. He knows that it will be over soon and while Asher doesn't fear for his own life, there's still Lydia, who is still in danger and there is _nothing_ he can do.

"A doctor won't help me anymore, but you can," Asher says, suddenly an idea forming in his befuddled mind, radiating in the approaching darkness like the bright light of a candle.

For the first time since Asher has met Ysidro, he sees something in the vampire's eyes that he has seen countless times before in the men who were unfortunate (or stupid) enough to cross his path and to interfere with his missions – stunned surprise. "Do it, Ysidro," he says, voice unsteady but pleading. He is not above begging anymore. Not in this situation. He doesn't say anything more, doesn't elaborate. Talking is exhausting enough as it is and they both know what he is asking for.

Ysidro shakes his head. It is a fast, short motion, so that Asher can't even be sure if the light and his questionable condition didn't just deceive him. "I told you that I have never done it before and I have no intention of doing it now. And you, my dear James, are hardly in the condition to decide something like that."

"I'm dying," Asher says, or maybe he just thinks it, but it is the essence of this dilemma. "They have Lydia... I have to get to them, to save her."

Ysidro laughs. He doesn't understand. Of course not. Or maybe he does. Asher really can't be sure when it comes to the being in front of him. He just knows that Charles and Anthea Farren, Lord and Lady Ernchester, would have understood his situation.

"I explained the matter to you, why I never did it before, and I am not going to take advantage of a doomed man who has lost his common sense. The—"

"I don't care. I trust you," Asher says and he realizes that it is the truth. Even then, when Ysidro had forced him to work for him, Asher had, at some point, come to trust the vampire and it hasn't changed since then.

When Ysidro doesn't answer and Asher feels his vision blackening at the edges and the weakness becoming almost unbearable, he shakes his head and closes his eyes. "Then just go and save her," he says and even somehow manages to put his hand on the one of the vampire's, which is as hard as marble and much hotter than his own.

Lydia is, in the end, all that matters. For Asher at least and not only because he loves her and just can't imagine being without her, but also because it is his fault – again! – that his wife's life is in danger. "Promise me that you'll save her. Please, Simon." His eyes close again and this time there's nothing Asher can do against it, no hidden reserve of strength, which seems to have left him with the blood that stains the dirty pavement, probably bright enough to stand out even against the thick fog that holds the city captive. Asher finds himself staggering, then falling against something, but he can't say if it is against the wall or the vampire.

"If I do that, you will die, James." Ysidro's voice is soft against Asher's ear. "I can not save you both."

"It doesn't matter," Asher says. It is the truth. "Just save Lydia." He shivers against the supporting arm around him.

"You would die for love."

"For Lydia." It is getting cold and James wishes that he could just lay down somewhere, preferably under a warm blanket, together with Lydia.

"You would die for her," Ysidro repeats and James thinks that this is getting a bit absurd. He doesn't think that this is the right time to teach a being as old as Ysidro – and just as removed from life – about humanity, but he finds that he can't convey these thoughts into words, not in a way that he would be able to say them. For the moment, he is just grateful that the pain has dulled and that almost to the point that he can ignore it, even if it means that he won't have much longer anymore.

"Just save her, Simon. I trust you with her life," Asher stops him mid-sentence, without even having heard any of what Ysidro has said.

**II.**

That he opens his eyes shocks him almost more than the unfamiliar surroundings. He is laying on some kind of bed in a room with high walls. Out of the corners of his eyes he can see shelves lined up, filled from the bottom to the top with books, mostly in order, sometimes in two or three rows. He can't see very well, so he can't make out any titles or much else, apart from the fact that the walls seem to be dark and that he doesn't feel in danger, despite of the strangeness of the situation.

Apart from the dull pain in (at? Around? Asher can't quite locate it) his stomach, Asher feels pleasantly drowsy. At least for the few seconds it takes him to remember what happened, followed by him trying to sit up. But even then, he still seems to be in some kind of dream-like state, unable to move properly. Before he can make another attempt to sit up, the ground below him shifts as somebody sits down beside him.

"You should not move, not if you value your life." Asher recognizes the voice before the face works its way through the pleasant veil that seems to surround Asher's brain and dulls his surroundings.

"Ysidro," he says, voice pressed. "What about Lydia?"

"She is alive and safe for the time being. It's too close to daybreak for me to do something now. But I do not believe that they have any intention of harming her. "

"Did you see her?" Asher tries to sit up once more, but a hand on his chest stops him. He still remembers the steel behind Ysidro's hold too vividly to have any illusions that he could go against it now and so he complies. It is most likely much less painful than moving as well.

"Yes."

"But—"

"She is safe. For the time being at least. They want you, which I might say, is most likely also the only reason that you are still... alive," Ysidro says, but his voice is much less convincing than his words. Not that it surprises Asher. He knows himself well enough to _know_ that his condition is worse than all the other times before, even worse than after he was attacked by the vampires in Paris. "I don't think they meant to harm you that critically. Wysocki probably isn't even aware of what happened. Not that he wants you alive, but he wants to kill you with his own hands. He said that much to one of his men."

"That is... very reassuring," Asher says and even manages a grimace. And in a way it is, at least if it will keep Lydia alive until he, until _Ysidro_ , can bring her to safety.

"Your wife is just a tool for them to get close to you. I'm very sure that no harm will come to her during the hours of the day. She will spend the day sleeping. I made sure of that. As for you, my friend," – if Ysidro would be human, Asher would have interpreted the short break as him taking a deep breath – "you are dying."

Asher isn't shocked. During his life he has been confronted with death so often – and has far too often barely escaped it – that it just _is_ now, an unwelcome companion, a fact of life that nobody can escape. It's just very unpleasant, currently made even more disagreeable by the fact that he can't go after those who have his wife and save her.

"I am aware of that." In fact, Asher isn't even sure why he is still alive. Back in that dark and stinking alley, he had seen himself as a dead man already and the few minutes grace he got for some inexplicable reason do not change that most basic fact. "Just save her, please!"

Ysidro shakes his head, though not in negation. "You are a very strange couple. Here you are, dying; yet all you can worry about is your lady. She on the other hand, despite being in this situation, even dreams about you. It is like in Constantinople. She never gave up and was willing to sacrifice everything for you." He sounds amazed.

"We love each other," Asher says and closes his eyes once more. Even so he feels the unhuman pale eyes on him, glowing, almost burning and for all he has come to appreciate Ysidro's existence, he isn't sure if that gaze is the last thing he wants to feel in his life. Of course, it could still be worse. Like all the other times when he had almost died, alone and cold in the mountains, being surrounded by enemies - human and vampires alike.

"Are you truly serious?"

The effort it costs Asher to open his eyes this time is much more than before. "About what?" he brings out, voice a nuance rougher, a strong contrast to the vampire's smooth one.

"There is no turning back, not even after you saved her. This is not something that can be undone." Suddenly Asher isn't even sure if he has really heard Ysidro. His lips do not seem to have moved at all and the words echo in Asher's mind. His brain needs some time to wrap itself around the words and even then it seems to take an eternity until he can fully understand their meaning.

Before Asher can even try to speak, Ysidro continues, "I have never done this. You have seen the results of the transformations that went wrong. I'm not sure if I will be able to hold your spirit and change your body at the same time. If it doesn't work, I will have to kill you." Ysidro's voice and eyes don't betray any emotions. "It will be much better for you if you just die here. At least you will be at peace then." Ysidro stops and huffs a sigh, which is such a human notion that it seems fascinatingly displaced on him.

"Then let me die. Or kill me. I don't care. Just go and save Lydia," Asher says once more, voice insisting. Suddenly the vampire's hand moves towards his neck, too fast for Asher to have seen the movement, and with a low crack a silvery light flies away from him. The silver necklace lands with a surprisingly loud thud on the ground. Ysidro's eyes close for a moment as he cradles his hand, which is protected by a thin leather glove only.

Asher feels the urge to apologize, which, he thinks, should be ridiculous, seeing that he had worn the chain as a protection against Ysidro and his kind. Before he can make up his befuddled mind about a possible apology however, Ysidro's face is right in front him, the only visible sharpness in the grey fog that surrounds Asher.

"I hope that neither you nor I will regret this," Ysidro says and for a moment he is so very close that Asher can see everything. Or nothing, because there are no small lines or anything else that usually characterizes a face, almost as if someone had sculpted Ysidro from one piece of hard, white stone. Only his gaze, those mesmerizing yellow eyes, which seem to read Asher completely, down to his soul and the deeply hidden secrets there, seem alive, are burning through the fog around Asher, taking over his mind, his thinking, becoming the focus of his world.

Asher can't help but think that, just maybe, death isn't the worst option after all, least of all death at the hands of the creature that intends to burn itself into Asher's mind, so that he will be the only image Asher will take to death with him.

"Death?" Ysidro murmurs. "I should not hope so. Life would become a bit less interesting without you and your wife around to entertain me."

Asher is still trying to make sense out of those words when he feels his head turning – he can't say if it is his own doing or if Ysidro helped – baring his now defenseless neck and throat to the vampire. Strangely enough, Asher isn't afraid when silky lips brush his throat, almost like a feather light kiss. Rather it feels like the logical thing to do. For a brief moment Asher wonders if it is he who feels this way or if it is thanks to yet another one of Ysidro's mind tricks.

And then it doesn't really matter anymore. He feels the teeth piercing his skin, ripping into the flesh, which is very different from his previous experiences and he isn't quite sure if it is because the wound in his stomach has maybe numbed him or if it is indeed different this time.

"Just how much do you want to live, James? Are you strong-willed enough to go that step? Do you really love your beautiful lady enough to doom yourself?" The voice in his mind is mocking and soft and wondering at the same time.

Of course, there's nothing Asher can say, not while he feels like flying and slowly vanishing at the same speed that his blood leaves his body. It's not painful, but rather a curious sensation.

"Give me your soul. I will keep it safe and then return it to you." The order is soft, the words no more than a fading whisper in his mind, but Asher can't resist it. He wants to give it to Ysidro, wants to give him everything - his life, his soul, his very being, all that defines him.

**III.**

Asher wakes to sensations unlike anything he has ever experienced before. There is no pain and he is filled with energy, almost bursting with it. When he looks into the mirror, he sees the same brown James Archer as before, just younger. In wonder, he stares at himself for a moment, then, when he hears steps from behind him, loud, almost thundering, he turns his head. Ysidro looks at him, his gaze unwavering, but Asher thinks that he can see – or maybe feel – the most different emotions in his eyes, in the blood.

In _their_ blood.

"Thank you, Simon." It is all he can say for the time being.

Ysidro nods. "We should go. Your wife is waiting." Without another word, he turns around, leaves Asher, who suddenly feels lost and bewildered and... _incomplete_. It is a ridiculous notion of course. Asher turns to follow the other vampire without paying any more attention to it.

Ysidro is waiting right outside the house, keeps the door open for Asher.

When Asher follows Ysidro out into the night, the air is filled with thousands of smells and aromas, a few of them highly pleasing, most of them an offence to the senses. And then there is the light, in the most different shades and so vivid that Asher thinks that he just needs to reach out and can grab it. It is stupid, of course, but that he knows it doesn't really protect him from that experience and before he realizes it, he finds himself following a rather peculiar aroma that laid itself over his senses, almost smothering him.

He is stopped by a hand on his shoulder before he can go anywhere. "You can do all of that later, James," he hears Ysidro's soft voice against his ear. "That and much more. I will show you everything. But you should not forget why you chose to go this path."

Asher nods with a last gaze into the direction that has captured his interest. "How do you live with this? Day after day?" he asks, falling in step beside Ysidro, pointing around him, including the range of aromas, the lights, the people, whatever there is, tempting and distracting, beckoning to Asher to dive into it, to explore each and every bit of it, to completely lose himself in the sensations.

"You learn it after a time. That, or it will drive you insane," Ysidro says, matter-of-factly. Being in the center of the attack, Asher has no problem believing it. He closes his eyes, tries to center himself, to shut out everything that is trying to distract him, to focus on that which has brought him here. "Come," Ysidro says just when he feels the proximity to the other vampire mute the assault on his senses. Asher nods in thanks.

**IV.**

When they stop in front of a row of lower-class houses, Asher tries to catch his breath, like a man who has just run countless miles. Ysidro's pale gaze is mocking, but Asher ignores it, instead just straightens up, looks around. "Are they here?"

Ysidro nods. "You did not have the gift before, of course, but you both know each other so well that it might still be possible for you to find them. Close your eyes," he orders. "Try to focus on your wife. Concentrate; on her smell, her breathing, her voice. Anything. Try to filter her out."

Asher tries, but discovers that it isn't nearly as easy as Ysidro always makes it look to be. There's just too much distraction, countless sensations that make it impossible to focus on just one thing. It's maddening and exhilarating all at once. Asher sets his lips into a thin, determined line, forces himself to concentrate on the one thing that is more important to him than his own life.

"Focus," Ysidro breathes almost silently in his ear and lays a hand on Asher's back, which is warm and strong, and this time Asher can feel it. At first it is only a faint sound within him, followed by an equally faint light, warm as only Lydia can be. He holds onto it, concentrates on it, forces it to come closer and then—

He shivers. "There," he says, pointing down a narrow, dirty street to their right. "The house at the end, with the little turret. She is asleep in the upper corner room, but I cannot say how many more there are."

"Five more," Ysidro says and smiles satisfied before taking Asher's hand in his once more and moving them at lightening speed forward, so that the surroundings begin to blur around Asher, the forms of people becoming one with the landscape, for the moment no more important than that either.

**V.**

When retribution comes, it comes fast and swift, almost like in the past when Asher was still an active part of the game and was forced to act, to protect himself and his country. This time however, Asher, more out of instinct than need, also discovers that blood isn't nearly as distasteful as he had always thought as he drinks down Wysocki's life and exhilarates in his death. It is not something he has planned beforehand, but an instinctually reaction that Asher has no time to ponder, nor to regret, much less to stop, before his teeth sink into Wysocki's neck and the warm blood flows into him, filling him with warmth and a sense of a life that isn't his.

"We should go." It is the only thing Ysidro says when he comes upon the scene. His eyes are expressionless and Asher can't feel any emotions from him either, neither triumph nor pity. What just happened seems to be something that just is to the other vampire, a necessity of the life Asher has chosen, the price he has to pay for his own survival and the life of his wife. Asher is grateful for the lack of emotions, not at least because he doesn't know how he would have dealt with mockery or something else, not when this all is still so new to him, so confusing. "Daylight will be upon us soon and I imagine that you do not want to leave your wife here. There is still time to bring her home."

"Is she..."

Ysidro nods. "I ensured that. She will wake up in the safety of her home and won't remember what happened."

**VI.**

"Did you really think she would be that easily derailed? With a letter or some words? She is the woman who came to my home, asking for my assistance in her search for you, regardless of the danger I or the journey represented. She won't be satisfied with some vague explanations about your whereabouts, James. She wants to see and be with you."

"I know," Asher says, voice soft, and turns away from Ysidro and his hard gaze, the exasperation he can feel in their bond. "But I can't let her see me this way," Asher finally says. "She would never understand why I did it."

Not that Asher has regretted the step. Certainly not nearly as strongly as he probably should have, seeing the consequences. But he had saved Lydia with what he had done, with what he had _become_ and that is all that matters to him, even if he can no longer be with her now.

Asher ignores the stab of pain he suddenly feels and goes to the door. "I can't talk to her. Not to Lydia." Then he leaves the house, leaves Ysidro and the ghost of his wife behind him and escapes into the night, taking his regret with him.

**VII.**

Asher hasn't been looking for them, not consciously, but he still finds them, not too far away from their home. Lydia and Ysidro are standing in front of the old bakery, talking. Asher draws further back into the shadows. He has no doubt that Ysidro knows that he is here, but the other vampire doesn't give any indication about his presence. It is one more thing Asher is grateful for. He finds himself watching as they talk, hears Ysidro's careful choice of words as he explains the situation to Lydia, sees her beautiful face contorting as the truth sinks in.

"I don't believe you! You found him and then you killed him! First Miss Potter and now my husband. Why? We kept your secret! Why do you do something like that? My husband helped you!"

"That is not how it was, Mistress," Ysidro says, surprisingly patient.

When Lydia attacks Ysidro, not only with words, but physically flings herself at him and starts to hit the hard, unyielding body with all the power she has, Asher can't hold back anymore and appears behind them. He steps between them, catches Lydia in his arms, holds her, carefully, as if she would be a very fragile flower.

"Jamie," she breathes out, eyes wide. "Jamie, It's not true, is it? You would never do something that stupid." She looks at him, eyes bright with tears and fading hope as she sees the undeniable confirmation right in front of her. "You look like then, when I saw you first..." There's wonder in her eyes and shock, but no fear or disgust and for that Asher is eternally grateful.

"I'm sorry," he finds himself whispering, hiding his head in her hair while holding her close, breathing in her scent, her life. "I didn't have a choice. I had to save you. If Simon had not interfered, I would have died."

"Take me with you then. Don't leave me here." It's not a request, but a demand.

For a moment too shocked to form words, Asher just looks at Lydia. Then he shakes his head, hard, leaving no doubt that he means it. "No. Never," he whispers. "I did it for you, so that you would live. I was dying anyway. Forgive me. I love you, Lydia. Live. For me."

And with that Asher – with a last kiss to the soft red hair, a last sense of her disturbingly intoxicating scent – steps away from Lydia and turns around.

"Jamie!"

Asher forces himself to ignore her and to become once more one with the shadows.

"I suggest you follow your husband's advice, so that his sacrifice will not have been in vain. Goodbye, Miss Asher," he still hears Ysidro saying, then Asher is gone, leaves Lydia and their shared life behind him, in the light, where Lydia belongs.

**VIII.**

"Such a heartfelt scene. I am touched. I truly am. Mr. Asher."

Asher almost jumps when he hears the familiar voice, which sounds still as unpleasant as it did when they met last, years ago. "Grippen!"

"Dr. James Asher. Such a coincidental encounter and of the kind I would never have expected to happen. Certainly not with you." Neither did Asher, but of course, Grippen is not the one Asher wants to have such a discussion with, so he doesn't say anything. Warily he observes the older vampire, very well aware of the affront his mere existence must be to Grippen and equally aware of the danger. Unlike in the past, this time there would be no silver or a little monk to save Asher if Grippen should decide to attack him.

Within mere seconds, Asher realizes just how accurate this assessment is. While he can see the other vampire's movements this time, he discovers that there is not much he can do when Grippen suddenly moves and throws Asher against the wall of the nearest house. Asher winces as Grippen keeps him there, his hold so firm that Asher can feel the bones in his shoulders grinding. "I should have known. Of course. Nobody else but _he_ would dare to go against my first rule. The Spanish rat. Where is he now, Mr. Asher? Where is your master?"

Before Asher can answer, Ysidro appears behind them. "I'm here, Lionel. And I would certainly appreciate it, if you would let go off my fledging," Simon says, voice and gaze mild, but with some underlying steal that dares Grippen to do anything else, maybe even reminding Grippen that he isn't necessarily the strongest one present.

With a snarl, Grippen throws Asher to the side, too fast as that Asher could stop the fall and he finds himself colliding hard with the street.

"Your disregard for our rules is known well enough. You like to go against every convention possible, but to create new fledglings without my permission is outrageous, even for you!"

"He was dying, Lionel. If I had waited to ask you, it would have been too late. I could not take the risk." Not that Asher can see Ysidro asking anyone for permission to do anything. Unfortunately, Asher is very certain that Grippen knows that as well.

"Even so. _I_ am the Master of London, not you. You had no permission to create another vampire. And him of all people!" he says, voice dripping with disgust.

Asher opens his mouth to say something, but a warning glance from Ysidro stops him. And maybe it is for the best, because Grippen is already furious enough and right now might not be the best time to provoke him – even if accidentally – even further. Ysidro straightens up. "Yes, _him_ of all people," he says, voice calm. "He was dying when I found him. I couldn't allow for that to happen and there was no time to consult with you first."

He can hear Ysidro's unspoken 'even if I would have wanted', but Grippen obviously doesn't or maybe he just chooses to ignore it, because the Master of London continues: "Chloe was right after all, was she not?" Grippen's eyes are gleaming with something like triumphal understanding and Asher has to force himself not to shiver in response. "You really do like him. When did he stop being just another mortal for you? A tool for us to use and then to dispose of? When did you start to want him? First you take him into service – without my permission as well – and then you bring him into our family!"

For the flash of a moment, disgust distorts Ysidro's fine features. "Family? Hardly, Lionel."

Grippen's gaze turns hard, his red eyes flashing with murderous intend. For a moment, Asher is convinced that he will attack Simon, but when he takes a step forward, as if he wants to step between them (which is another one of those uncharacteristically thoughtless acts, because not only can Simon defend himself, but Grippen is still much stronger than Asher), Grippen just laughs.

"Quite the price you got yourself there, Simon. Still, you created him without my permission. He is a danger to us, to _all_ of us, even if you prefer not to see yourself as a part of that. It is within my right to destroy him."

"You have no reason to do this. James presents much less of a danger than he did before I turned him. He has no reason to hunt and destroy us now. And you know very well that neither of us has any desire to take your place, Lionel, so stop with this absurdity. If I would have wanted your position, I could have challenged you years ago already!" There is a glint of anger in the golden eyes now.

"He is right," Asher finally manages to say something. "On all accounts. My presence, as surprising as it is, is testimony for my will to survive, so it would be rather... unwise if I would challenge you for a position that I have no interest in. And seeing my current condition, it should be obvious why I don't present any other danger. Not that I did before. I never tried to find you, much less to hunt you after everything was done. Nor did I try to convince anyone from your existence. I just want to live my life." Or un-life, as the matter is. And it is the truth. He might not like Grippen, but that doesn't mean that he wants to replace him.

Asher holds Grippen's gaze, the burning inferno that is so completely focused on him. He can feel Ysidro beside him, stiffening, as if preparing for the worst, or maybe just straightening up. For a moment, Asher wonders what Ysidro would do if it should come to a fight. Would he go against Grippen and the comfortable uneasiness they share? Just to protect some new vampire that he originally did not even want to create? Or—

"That is enough, Grippen. You heard him," Ysidro says and Asher finds himself relaxing very slightly in the hand that is suddenly on his shoulder and against the body behind him, which is hard and solid, supporting.

Grippen snarls. "One chance. If one of you should cross me or if I think that you will present a danger to us, to me or to my position, I will hunt down both of you and make you regret the day you were born!" The last words aren't quite spoken yet when Grippen vanishes.

"I'm sorry, Simon," Asher says after a moment and turns around to face the other vampire. "I did not think about him when I asked you..." Would it have changed anything, Asher wonders. He doesn't believe so. Not in that situation, with him dying and Lydia being in danger.

Ysidro waves it off and starts walking. "He will not cause any more trouble as long as we do not challenge his authority. But maybe you should try to stay out of his way, at least until he realizes that ¬what we said is the truth."

Asher nods. "And what about—"

"Your wife left and will have arrived safely by now. I made sure that she took a carriage and that she will not come back here anymore. Unfortunately, I cannot erase you just as easily from her mind."

Shocked, Asher stares at him. "Have you tried to do so?"

"No. It would not have been fair. But maybe you should think about it. It might make her life easier if she believed that you just, well, maybe had something else to do, something that was more important than your feelings for her."

Asher shakes his head. "It would not work. She would never believe it."

"You are most likely correct," Ysidro says as they pass the market. "She loves you too much for that. But it would be much better for both of you if that would be possible."

Asher doesn't protest.

**IX.**

He doesn't know how long they have been gone. Time starts to melt, becomes unimportant as Asher struggles to deal, not only with what he has become, which is unexpectedly easy, but even more with the loss of his wife, which clouds the otherwise surprisingly exhilarating life he has chosen to take part in. Fortunately, the diversions are plenty in his new life, so Asher, while never being able to forget, has at least a certain diversion.

There are colors and sounds and aromas that take a hold of him, capturing him, and there is the taste of blood, rich and warm and not nearly as disgusting as it probably should be. And there is Ysidro, of course, who seems to be around Asher constantly, teaching him and spending time with him, being there, making an exciting life even more interesting.

He has become such an integral part of Asher's life, that Asher thinks that he can feel him everywhere. It's not an unpleasant feeling and he quite reveals in it when they spend the nights together, trying to learn Asher's powers, discussing the merit of Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin and his invention of the same name or of having a full orchestra to underline the atmosphere of a movie. Especially the idea of being able to fly seems to fascinate Ysidro endlessly.

On some nights when they sit together in front of a fire that they don't really need but both enjoy, and Ysidro reads to him out of his old books (something he seems to enjoy as much as Asher does listening to him), Asher can't help but think back to the time that he had been forced to spend in his underground prison, after his encounter with the vampires of Paris, when they had almost succeeded in killing him. Like then, he feels a strange sensation of, maybe not exactly peace, but at least inner calm.

Even so, he thinks, looking out into the night, it is strange how much his life had changed in such a short time, how it had started to spin faster and faster ever since that day when he had met Ysidro, when his knowledge about vampires had led Asher down into the depths of hell, to the point where no return was possible anymore.

Unbidden memories of their night as Horace Blaydon's guests turn up, force themselves into to foreground.

_"Under this set of circumstances, I think James would find no point in making so desperate an effort at survival, though I suspect that under others he might."_

_"James presents much less of a danger than he did before I turned him. He has no reason to hunt and destroy us now."_

"You are restless."

Asher has felt Ysidro's presence before the other vampire had even taken the first step into their home and so he isn't surprised. "I'm... thinking. That night in Blaydon's house, did you know that we would be here one day? That what you said would come true?"

Ysidro laughs and when Asher turns around to face him, his eyes are alight with amusement. "I'm a vampire, James, not a fortuneteller. But," he continues, now serious again, "I was certain that presented with the choice in the right circumstances, you might be willing to go that step, in spite of your protests. But I certainly did not think that it would be so soon."

"And why did you do it? To spite Grippen? Because I asked you? Or rather because this way you could make sure that I would not present a danger to your kind anymore?"

"If that would have been my only concern, I could have taken care of you much earlier in a much more permanent way. That you are here now, should tell you something," Ysidro says, a certain edge in his voice. "However, I will not deny that I rather have you on our side than not. But it certainly was not the reason why I agreed to your request. You were dying and you asked me to do it. And maybe I felt like doing it, because you are an interesting addition to my life. There is nothing more to it, no other ulterior motive other than maybe the pleasure of your continuous company. But why are you thinking about this now? Why these doubts? Just because of something Grippen said in the heat of the moment? Regrets?"

Asher shakes his head with a sigh. "No. I don't think I have any right to regret. I got everything I wanted and much more. If I started to regret, there would be a whole more that I would need to regret first. I have just been wondering about this. Your motivation." After a brief moment of silence, he adds, "And maybe I have been wondering if _you_ had any regrets. After all, you have never even considered this before."

"No, I have not," Ysidro agrees. "But believe me, if I would regret anything, you would know it by now. I do not have a reason to lie to you, certainly not in this matter."

"That is very reassuring," Asher says, but can't quite withhold a smile. "I trust you. Otherwise I would not be here now, as you said so aptly. I don't make it a habit of giving my soul just to anybody who crosses my path."

"I should hope so," Ysidro says and the amusement is back in his eyes, warming them.

**X.**

"Do you miss him? Does Grippen?" Asher asks when they return from their audience by the Master of the city himself (an invitation made most likely to ensure that the two of them still have no plans to overthrow Grippen. Asher is firmly convinced of that). Needless to say, Asher had been relieved when they could finally take their leave again. The fragile peace between Simon and Grippen plays some interesting tricks with Asher's nerves, not at least because he is one of the reasons for it.

"Who?"

"Rhys. Your master."

For a moment there is silence and Ysidro's gaze seems very distant, focused on some point in the past where Asher can't follow, so he waits patiently for Ysidro to return to the present and see what he is willing to disclose. Sometimes Asher thinks that it is unfair. Ysidro knows everything about him, even his most hidden secrets, the ones Asher doesn't even dare to look at during the protective darkness of the night, while his knowledge about the other vampire is limited to whatever he is willing to share.

"I do. Not always, but there are times when I wish that he would still be here."

"Do you really think that he died in the fire?"

"It is a very possible outcome. Most of us lost our lives then and those few who escaped death were badly hurt. But I am not entirely certain. Sometimes I think that I can still feel him somewhere within me. Much like our bond, if not quite as strong."

For a moment, they walk in silence through the fog, which is so thick that even with his enchanted sight, Asher can barely make out those walking on the other sidewalk. "Did you ever go looking for him?" Asher breaks the silence eventually.

"No. I would not even know where to start such a search. Unlike me, he was always a traveler and I do not like chasing after something that might or might not even exist. But if he is still alive and if he wants to see us, he will come eventually. Like always in the past." There is a faint, far-away smile on Ysidro's lips.

"What kind of person was... is he?" Asher asks the question that has been on his mind for some time already. Maybe it should not be his concern and in the past he had no reason to ask such a question, no matter his curiosity, but now they have become related in some way and the elusive Rhys the White is part of the mystery that is Ysidro, so Asher thinks he has the right to hear about him now.

"He was different from most of us. Even when he was the Master of London, he was nothing like Lionel. He never cared much for conventions."

Asher can't suppress a laugh. "That does sound familiar."

Ysidro smiles. "We were very much alike. It was one of his reasons for choosing me."

"And Grippen? He hardly fits the pattern with his desire to control everything."

"Exactly for that reason," Ysidro says. "He liked the difference between us. And Grippen was not always this way. He never was as carefree of rules as we have been, but it became really bad after the fire."

"After Rhys vanished."

Ysidro nods. "And after he succeeded him. You will know that power is dangerous. It makes you strong and vulnerable at once. Lionel was aware of it, but he was the only one strong enough to take the position."

"What about you?"

"I never wanted it," Ysidro says, a faint smile playing over his thin, colorless lips. Their paleness makes Asher realize that they probably should feed before the sun rises. "For the same reason that I never wanted to create another vampire. There is too much responsibility and too many ways one could misuse such power, even if you have the best intentions. I just wanted to recover and to live my life. But Grippen was the one who stepped in, the only one willing to take control, to bring some sort of order to the chaos during these days."

"You like Grippen," Asher realizes not without astonishment.

" _Like_ is a very strong word. I might rarely agree with what he does, but a part of me does admire him for doing what nobody else was willing to do. Unfortunately, the power and the responsibility changed him until he became what he is now."

He sighs and that is a sound so very human and so unlike Ysidro's usual self, that Asher thinks that he is allowed to see another glimpse of the other vampire. Of the years that have passed for Ysidro, of the human Don Simon had been before Rhys' lute play had enchanted him and had caught him in the unbreakable web of eternity.

Asher likes it.

"If he would still be alive," as unlikely as the option is, but this is something Asher needs to know, "how do you think he would react?"

"React?" Ysidro asks, voice once more void of emotions, maybe only very slightly tainted by the weight of the memories he has just shared with Asher.

"What has become of the two of you, the city, the fledglings you have created?"

"I'm not sure he would care. He never was interested in control. Maybe he would take over power from Lionel again, but—"

"Would Grippen allow it?"

"I would hope so. A struggle for dominance between the two of them is not something I would like to see, neither as an unwilling contestant nor as a mere observer. But even if Rhys should still be alive, I cannot see him wanting such power again. He was not really interested in it in the past and I do not think that the centuries will have changed that."

"And—"

"You do not need to concern yourself with that, James," Ysidro says and there is a strong nuance of wariness in his voice. "Nothing will happen. I do not see why Rhys should want to harm anybody as long as he doesn't believe his own life in danger. He is different from Grippen and does not care for such things. Not that is matters. Nobody has seen him in centuries and I do not think that this will change. You are as safe as you ever will be. You should know that by now. I would not let anything happen to you, certainly not for another vampire to harm you. I created you for a reason. You belong to me and I will protect you, no matter against whom, if it is Grippen, the vampires from Paris or even against my own master if it should ever become necessary."

At some point their quiet steps have come to a hold on a bridge. Asher can hear the water of the Thames passing below the thick stones as Ysidro's gaze burns into his with an almost terrifying intensity, the golden eyes glowing like an otherworldly fire. Asher feels his throat constricting. "I know," he finally brings out and while his voice sounds normal, he feels as if he has to forcefully press the air out of his lungs. "And I would not be here anymore if I would not trust you. I gave myself to you, my soul. Not even Lydia knows as much about me as you do."

And as much as it pains him that he could never give himself so completely to Lydia as he had to Ysidro (even if it was for her, initially at least), he is still very glad that the other vampire has been the one to get to know him so intimately and not somebody else. Even now, even during the (admittedly very rare) times when he happens to wonder if he took the right step all those months ago, he can be certain that his secrets are safe with the other vampire, that Simon would never use them against him.

**XI.**

But even the most peaceful time tends to come to an abrupt end and for Asher that moment is when he returns home one winter night, a few hours before sunrise. Ysidro is standing at the door to their house, waiting for him. His features are impassive as usual, but Asher has learned to read him well enough to see and feel a certain annoyance, bordering on anxiety. "You have a visitor," Ysidro tells Asher and when Asher follows him inside, _she_ is standing there, being her usual beautiful self.

"Lydia," Asher whispers. The air around her seems to be vibrant with life and he feels his own blood singing in response to her presence.

"Jamie!"

For a long time they just look at each other, forgetting the world around them. And when she rushes towards him and he can finally put his arms around her again, can feel her body pressing against his own with an almost painful familiarity as if they had never been apart, Asher feels the weight that has shackled him for the last months falling off, freeing him.

"He indulges you," she says after a moment, looking around, obviously taking in the spacious rooms, decorated just in the way Asher likes it, and the shelves filled with books on every topic Asher has ever been interested in. There's a smile playing around her lips.

Asher nods. "He does." And it is nothing less than the truth. It is also something Asher appreciates more than he will ever be able to say.

"I'm happy to hear that. I was worried. I tried to find you after that evening, but you seem to have vanished," she says and her voice is on the verge of breaking, mingled with relief.

"You shouldn't have come here. I wanted for you to continue your life, to enjoy it. That is why I decided for this path," Asher says and takes a step away from her, bringing some distance between them, between himself and the intoxicating sense of life she radiates. Behind them, he can feel Ysidro entering the room.

"I tried, but if it means being separated from you for good, then I don't want it. I can decide my own path, just as much as you, Jamie. You, more than anyone else, should be aware of that. "

"But this is different. It's not just a different path, it is a different life," Asher protests.

"I'm very well aware of that," Lydia says. "But if my husband can just make such a stupid decision without consulting me, you should allow me to do the same. I miss you, Jamie. I don't want to be anywhere else than by your side. I'm a mature woman who is very well capable of making her own decisions, as you hopefully haven't forgotten. And I want this." There is the same gleam in Lydia's eyes she has whenever she has set her mind on something.

"It's dangerous," Asher says.

"Our life always has been dangerous. First because you were in the service and then because of them," she says, nodding at Ysidro who stands beside the fireplace across the room. "Constantinople has been dangerous. That did not stop me."

"No." Asher sighs. "Very unfortunately not." Of course, this, her stubbornness and her independence, is also part of the reason why he loves her so much as they both know very well. Asher also starts to fear that he is fighting a lost battle here. "And what about your career?" he asks then, not willing to give up. He doesn't want this for Lydia. She doesn't belong to this life. Her inner light, her beauty shouldn't be hidden in the night!

"I'm a doctor," she says, then smiles at him in that special way that makes Asher's resistance melt away instantaneously. "What better way is there to study a phenomenon than by becoming a part of it? All the tests I could make! And maybe, given enough time, which I will undoubtedly have then, I will even find a cure for the disease that plagues your kind," she says, turning around to Ysidro. Asher can hear the excitement in her voice.

"And the blood? There's no way to avoid it. We need it to survive," Asher says before Ysidro can reply.

"I know," Lydia only says and there seems to be a fleeting shadow clouding her usually bright eyes. "I can handle it. You do as well, don't you?" She is right, Asher knows. Once the turn has been completed, one does get a different perspective and the blood doesn't seem nearly that disgusting anymore, at times even more than a mere tool for survival.

Still. "Lydia...," Asher tries once more.

It is Ysidro, though, who turns the wheels around. "I am willing to do it, provided that this is what you really want, Mistress."

For a moment, there's something like stunned silence dominating the air. Not from Ysidro, of course, but from Lydia and, even more, from Asher. The latter is the first one to recover: "Ysidro! You can't seri—"

Ysidro shakes his head, cuts Asher off mid-word. "She will never accept what happened, James. She will follow and find you everywhere. She wants to be with you, no matter what it entails. You should know how stubborn she can be."

Lydia starts to protest, but then obviously thinks differently about it and lets Ysidro continue: "And you want her with you as well. I for one would rather have her on our side than waking up to have a human standing in my home every so often. I don't like the idea of constantly moving whenever she finds us. Of course, there is another option. You could always kill her."

"Simon!" Asher says. That is not an acceptable option, something the other vampire knows very well.

"There are no other ways, James. You know it. I cannot manipulate her mind, certainly not to the point that she will forget you. Her feelings for you are too strong for that. Either she becomes one of us or you kill her. If it would not have been for you, I would have done it already!" Simon says, voice and gaze hard.

Asher has no doubt that this is the truth. For all their closeness and no matter how much Asher _likes_ the other vampire and how much Ysidro indulges Asher, he still is a killer. Just like Asher. More than that, this is not about a mere mortal, about feeding, but about their safety. Asher understands that much, even if it doesn't stop him from feeling a certain sense of helplessness and dread. This isn't just about him and what he wants anymore, but about standing between the two people who both hold a very special place in his life, and about a certain selfishness, which prevents him from doing what needs to be done.

"Which, if I may say so, would be a real shame with such a beautiful lady. But if the assembled gentlemen can not decide, I will happily take over, if the lady would permit me the honor."

Asher jumps around at the unfamiliar, amused voice that suddenly sounds from behind them. He looks at the thin little man, whose white hair seems to have aged faster than the rest of him and rests for a moment at the vivid, laughing pale blue gaze. Instinctively, Asher takes a step back, pushes Lydia behind him. The other man, no, the other _vampire_ , much older than all of them, even Simon, laughs. "Oh, don't you worry. Your lady is quite safe with me. The same for you, Dr. James Claudius Asher. That is what people call you, isn't it?"

Even without ever having met the other man, Asher recognizes him.

"Rhys," Simon finally brings out, voice hoarse, then, as if worried that maybe his eyes are deceiving him, he takes a hesitant step forward. First one, then more, until he has crossed the room and stands right in front of the thin vampire.

Rhys beams up at him. "So you still do recognize me, Simon. I had wondered about that seeing how long ago it is that I last saw you. For some time I even worried that you and Lionel had fallen victim to the flames, but I should have known that both of you are much more resilient. And from what I heard and could see, you are both doing quite well. Though, I do have to admit that I am surprised seeing you here now. You were always so firm on never creating another vampire, yet, here we are. The esteemed Dr. James Asher one of us, and his beautiful lady, Lydia Asher, about to follow her husband to become a part of our small family. A wise choice if I may so, my Lady", he says, even bowing in Lydia's direction.

"Why... How do you know us?" Asher asks, being the first to break Rhys' monologue. He can sense the other's power, hidden behind the fragility of his body, his age rolling off him in waves, filling the room with his unique presence, more so than Simon's does. Yet, there is something about him that makes it impossible for Asher to be afraid of him. A healthy wariness maybe, much like the survival instinct that he has honed to perfection during his years in service. But these feelings are different from the uncomfortable tension that takes a hold of him whenever he meets Grippen.

Lydia steps beside Asher and he wraps his arm around her waist, for a moment bathing in the heat she radiates and in the smell of her blood, which awakes a special kind of desire within him, dangerous and dark, one of the many reasons he had decided to stay away from her. But right now, he is probably the least danger to her in the room. That is at least what he likes to think as he pulls her closer.

"Oh, I have heard all about you, Mr. Asher. You and your wife and your relationship with Simon. I know that he initially forced you to help him," Asher looks from Rhys to Ysidro who appears slightly uncomfortable, "about your journey to the Master of Constantinople and I know of Anthony – a dear friend of mine, before he decided to withdraw from the world – who helped you to rid the world of the abomination. I know about the impact you left on our community, the uproar you caused and especially how you impacted Simon. You see, Mr. Asher, there is not much that I don't know about you. And of course, hearing the latest rumors, I had to come and see for myself if you indeed managed to change Simon's mind about the creation of another one of us."

"It was not planned," Asher says, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

"It rarely is," Rhys answers, eyes gleaming in something like mischief. Then he turns to Ysidro. "A well made choice," he congratulates him, leaving a bewildered Asher to just look at the two of them.

Before one of them can answer, Rhys continues," Why don't we go out? I have not been here anymore for very long. I would like to see how this city has changed since the fire. And I would like to visit Lionel, I think. I want to see if his life holds similar surprises as yours does. And maybe the fresh air will help us to come to a decision that will be satisfactory for Lady Asher as well as her esteemed husband."

**XII.**

Asher should have known how the story would end. Not just the last act, which started with Wysocki, but years before that already, when Simon had stood in his home and had forced him to help them, down to the very end, with him having to make the one choice between death and life and –

\- Lydia.

His beautiful, wonderful wife, who spends the nights marveling at the stars and her strength, who sits over journals and experiments, very often a curious-fascinated Rhys at her side, at least until she throws him out of her laboratory because she can't focus with him there. Lydia, who plays cards with Simon and him, who loves Rhys' music as much as everybody else and who enjoys spending the nights with Cassandra, a young vampire, whom Grippen had created barely before Lydia has been reborn, a situation that obviously had created a bond between the two women.

No, the end should not have been much of a surprise, least of all for Asher and it was not. Not really and not if he has to be honest.

It went like this:

Lydia wanted, Ysidro offered, Rhys supported, Grippen agreed and Asher protested, first loudly, than more halfheartedly, then growing even more quietly. In the end, after a last lengthy discussion between Asher and Lydia during which she dissected all his arguments until he had none left anymore, Lydia got her way. Asher only managed to hold his ground in that he would not be the one to do it, under no circumstances. He was not willing to condemn his wife, the woman he loved more than his own life, to the eternal darkness, even if she wanted it.

But when she stood up to Ysidro telling him that he could do it (him, not Rhys or Grippen, after all she knows them even less than Ysidro), but thank you very much, she wants to have Jamie at her side the entire time, and Asher saw the resigned exasperation in Ysidro's eyes (accompanied by Rhys' amused laugh and Grippen's annoyance), he got a very vivid impression of how their journey to Constantinople must have been. And when Asher kissed and held her, he got a glimpse of their future and he couldn't help but smile.

And being here now, a few months later, Asher has to admit that between Ysidro and Lydia it could be much worse.

And Rhys, of course, who is like a whirlwind, filled with strength and power and life, which is effectively hidden behind that frail body. Sometimes Asher thinks that he is positively overflowing with life, more than any of them, especially when he talks about his travels or plays the lute and sings for them.

He won't stay with them; they all know it. He will feel the urge again to travel around the world soon enough, but for now he is here, is part of their strange little family, a buffer between Grippen and them. Especially between Asher and Grippen, since Grippen, for some unknown reason, still seems to be convinced that Asher is out to take his position (Asher rather believes that Grippen is still unforgiving that he never succeeded in killing Asher, but this is not something they talk about). Rhys is like a breath of fresh air that allows for a strange harmony between all of them.

Asher knows that Rhys has asked Ysidro to join him on his journey, even before he invited Asher and Lydia, but Ysidro still hasn't warmed up to the idea of traveling and Asher is, for the time being at least, content with staying where he is. Lydia on the other hand he can feel becoming restless. She wants to see and to explore the world with her new powers, wants to study herself further. Asher is very sure that she will join Rhys at some point. Not yet, but in the future. He also knows that he, even if he can't bring himself to accompany her and leave Simon behind, will let her go. Maybe not with an easy heart, but he wants for her to be happy. And if there is something he can be certain about it is that Lydia can take care of herself and that, no matter how far or how long apart they will be, they will be together again in the end.

**The End**


End file.
